The Wanderer
by Sour Skitts
Summary: He was quite content being a kittypet, but some persistent dead cats wanted him for something else, and he just did not know why. Or even what exactly he was supposed to do. But like any persistent cats, these cats were persistent, protective of those they left behind. So, what was it they wanted from him, and why him, a kittypet they once chased away?
1. Prologue

It was winter. A large white tom sat before the thick glass of a window, grooming his long white fur, so white he could have easily disappeared in all the piled up snow outside. Fire crackled in the house's fireplace, heating up the human home and its inhabitants, the warmth giving the tom a feeling of security and starkly contrasting the coldness of the howling wind hitting the face of the house, sometimes rattling the window blinds. The rather large snowflakes followed the wind's path, too light to fight its force, some leaving their traces on the windows as they hit them. Little to nothing could be seen in the weather, the darkness of night not aiding anyone's vision.

The tom was incredibly happy to be inside. Even though he shared his home with a dog.

He slowly moved away from the window and walked along the small but long wooden shelf, soft green eyes scanning the surroundings, ears pricked. It was dark inside the house, nothing but the fire serving as a source of light. The humans sat opposite the window, all three curled together on the grey-green couch underneath a thick brown blanket, watching a thin black machine of theirs; they called it the TV. A fascinating item with moving images of smaller humans, or at least they appeared to be smaller on the machine.

The tom could not find the dog, not even with his nose, finally hopping down on the bare laminated floor. The dog then came running from the other end of the house.

The humans all flinched when the tom arched his back, fluffed up his long fur and bared his fangs, hissing while moving out of the dog's way. The small, but to the tom rather large German shepherd pup ran clumsily across the floor, chasing the cat.

"Fleck! Leave Wanderer alone!" The pup stopped, tail energetically swishing, oversized head turned towards his owners. His large paws padded softly on the floor as he went towards his owners, picked up by the father, who scratched his head as he scolded him softly. The tom's fur flattened and he gave one nervous lick to his shoulder. He ended up on the other side of the large room, sitting before the edge leading into the cooking and eating area where cold stone tiles covered the floor. The familt continued to watch the TV in comfortable silence, laughing here and there at something happening there.

The tom stalked out of the room and climbed the stairway on one side of the hallway. The pup did not follow, loving the warmth of the blanket and human hands more than chasing the cat around all day.

The darkness of the room he entered enveloped itself around the tom, but he could see clearly around himself. One big paw forward, other big paw forward. He hopped onto the nightstand just below the window and made himself comfortable in the kitty bed the humans had bought for him long ago. He was almost theirs, but he still often changed his home, going from one house to the other, as long as they accepted him. During winter, however, he always stayed with them, even though they now had a dog. It did not seem hostile, being a playful pup.

His gaze lingered on the snow storm outside, ears picking up the faint howling of the wind. He did not want to even dream of being out there in such weather. However, he knew there were plenty of cats out there, struggling to survive in the harsh conditions of the wilderness. He wondered on some occasions what it was like, but never was the slightest bit drawn to the feral cat's life. Not even to the raw meat.

He would rather stay a soft kittypet who ate tasteless food, as one feral cat had dubbed him the one time he had wandered off into the forest.

* * *

The leaf crunched in defeat underneath his young paws. He puffed his chest out proudly, though there was no one to see it. Then he crouched again and was victorious once more.

Soon enough, he was the defeated one.

Inhaling deeply and with great effort, he squirmed and yelped as best he could under the weight of an adult tomcat. "Who are you?" came a sharp hiss from the black cat, his paw pressing down heavily on his chest, his face too close for comfort, yellow eyes bright and wild. The young cat struggled to breathe, unable to talk. It took time for the older one to realise this. He lowered the pressure.

The young tom gulped down as much as air he possibly could, not relaxing much with his heart pounding with fear in the face of the large, though slim feral cat.

"Who are you?" the black tom repeated just as sharply.

"Wanderer," the small tom blurted his name, trying to flinch backwards but only managing to hit his head on the hard soil.

"A longer? A rogue?" The tom eyed him, snorting. "You are young. And you are trespassing." Wanderer squirmed. The tom lifted his paw off his chest. "How old are you? Must be barely six moons."

Wanderer remained lying on his back. "I am four moons, nearing five." He rolled over and hopped to his paws, turning around. He flinched. There were three more cats behind the black one, only one she-cat, the only really small one out of them.

"Can you guess what will happen if you dare enter our forest again?" the black tom snarled.

The she-cat jumped in. "Blackfire, calm down," she chided, approaching the tom's flank. Her equally yellow eyes rested on Wanderer. "This must be a kittypet, but he is but a kit. Kits are not treated like you have treated him just now." Blackfire took a step back. The black-and-white she-cat's eyes now held the black tom's gaze. She turned to look at Wanderer again. "Wanderer, was it?" He nodded when he noticed her pause. "You are just a kit, but I am certain you will understand the weight of my words." He nodded again, keeping his ears pricked and fur as flat as was possible. "You are a soft kittypet who eats tasteless food every day. We are warriors, feral cats who live in the forest and hunt our own food and make our own shelter and collect our own medicine in the form of herbs. You do not belong with us, we do not belong with you. Do not come into our territory ever again, especially if you plan on hunting prey instead of leaves." She paused. He nodded yet again. "Stay away from us and you will be safe. You have no need for anything in the forest. Keep your nose out for our scent border. You must have ignored it now. Do not stray this far ever again." She stared at him in silence. He nodded again, more fiercely than before. He was not eager to see those kind of cats ever again.

Without a word, just a flick of the tail, the four cats trodded off along the border of the forest, disappearing behind the trees. Wanderer stumbled a few steps before speeding into a run, almost leaping across the tall grass meadow to the road, swiftly crossing it and climbing over the fence of the first house there, the house he had been in since he was born.

Feral cats? Never again.

* * *

His eyes began closing as he recalled the encounter, his spite waking up at that moment. It told him to do exactly what he did not want to do: go out there and show the feral cats that he could do it, even now that he had been a kittypet for all three years of his life.

* * *

 **AN**

Hello! This is the first Warriors fanfic I have decided to publish, and well only the second I have attempted to write.

It would mean the world to me if any of you decided to review and maybe even follow this story! I will attempt to update it properly once a week, Saturdays.

Anyway, reviews can be anything, as long as it is not mean and all that. So, constructive criticism, questions if anything is unclear and maybe should be, what you like, what you don't like, what seems wrong and so on.

Just a note: since Wanderer is a kittypet, I made it so he understands a lot of what the humans say (mostly if they say it a lot to him or they speak of it often and he is bored enough to listen and attempt to decipher, plus there are things that are passed on between the village cats) and calls them humans instead of Twolegs (though maybe I will change it to Twolegs, not sure yet, this is just the first draft). Still, if you maybe believe they would not so easily pick up on some things I will use, feel free to point it out. xD

So, yeah, the next part will be up on Saturday, 22.10.2016 XD


	2. Chapter 01

**AN**

Damn, sorry for forgetting to post on Saturday (if anyone is reading). I was just kind of busy with uni and stressed out over what now seems as almost nothing.

* * *

"Who are you?"

Bright figures of cats stood before him, shining eyes staring at him. There was no pupil or iris, just bright light; however, he still felt their gazes rested on him as he stared at each one of them. There were four of the bright, glittering cats with stars in their fur, sitting in a semi-circle in front of him. It smelled of all the four seasons, as far as Wanderer could tell. No one said a word.

"Who are you?" Wanderer tried again, sheathing and unsheathing his claws, which pierced the soft soil easily. He looked at his paws. The soft ground was covered in short grass and crawling with ants and the like, everything rushing around, doing its duties.

His eyes then darted around the place, taking in the view of the large meadow with a river running across it and into the forest surrounding it from most sides. On one side was an upward-sloping area turning into hills and a mountain. There seemed to be burrows in the hills, tunnels, half on one side of the river, half on the other. The shining cats continued to observe him. So he then observed them after conluding he had no idea where he was.

The four of them were all rather different cats. The leftmost was a small tortoiseshell shorthair she-cat with bright yellow eyes, looking exactly like the one he had encountered just less than three years earlier. He sensed some recognition in her eyes, but not exactly friendliness. The eyes were sharp, yet soft, just like the ones of the large tom by her side, an obviously proud, muscly silver tabby warrior with some sort of yellow-green eyes, which in colour matched the rightmost calico she-cat's eyes. The calico cat, he noticed, had long fur similar to his own, but was not as large as he was. If his sisters were any measure, she would not grow past the average she-cat size much; or at all. The last cat left was yet another tom, this one a small dark brown tabby with strikingly bright amber eyes. His gaze was soft, but the coldest out of the four.

The calico she-cat seemed the friendliest out of them.

When he was done observing his audience, they were still sitting there in utter silence. No one let out a single sound; almost not even breathing. "Who are you?" Wanderer attempted once more, little hope left with him. He sat down, waiting in silence. Thinking some more. How did one wake up from a dream? It was clearly a dream. An irritating one. If he could not wake up, mainly because he knew of no techniques to exit a dream, then at least how did he get those cats to talk?

It was slowly becoming uncomfortable.

He stood up and circled the spot where he had been sitting and standing, then began walking away from the cats sitting on the edge of the river, flicking his tail once in agitation. When he stopped in front of the forest to look over his shoulder, his instincts and reflexes made him jump and his in surprise, fur fluffing up defensively.

The odd cats were right behind him.

He shook his head and waited for a moment for his fur to lie flat again and his heart to relax. Then he walked away again. They continued following him. "Who are you?" He asked it every few moments, meanwhile leaping over fallen trees, too low branches and protruding roots. There were many trees in that area, packed tight together. The other half, over the river, did not seem as thick, at least not from outside.

He clumsily climbed one tree once it seemed impossible to move onwards any other way. His claws tore the bark away as he attemped to hold on, barely finding proper purchase, leaf after leaf loudly falling off the trees as he caught them with his flailing claws. He was no tree-climber.

His panting increased as he continued leaping from one tree to another using the thickest branches to close the gap; several times he nearly met his demise-by-falling due to his lack of skill and training in climbing trees. He dared not fall; the dream seemed far too real to be uncautious.

As he continued deeper into the tangled trees, which seemed to be bigger and bigger with every step and leap further, he found himself atop a tree where several cats could easily and comfortably fit. And such trees continued to line up, many branches entangled firmly and serving as steady bridges between the treetops. Wanderer crossed several of them, noticing how it wound around many trees in between and made a complete circle, some of the trees in the centre also connected to the outer ones.

"TreeClan," a steady voice broke the silence. Wanderer's tail fluffed up and eyes widened as he jumped up and spun around to face the strange cats. It was the silver tabby tom who spoke.

"What?" Wanderer said.

"TreeClan," the tom repeated. "This is the camp of TreeClan, my Clan." The white tom remained silent, watching the large tom carefully. "I am their former leader. Do you know about the life of... feral cats?" When the dreaming tom said nothing, he continued: "Our life consists of care for ourselves and others and of hunting our meals. We have nothing served to us. Our ancestors had to find this place, had to make a camp out of it. Had to divide the territory with the others; the history of the Clans, though, is of little use to you now." He paused. "But what you should know is that Clan bonds are more important than anything to us. Each Clan is one large family."

Wanderer finally interrupted him. "Why are you even telling me this? No, wait," he stopped the tom before he could reply, "How can I see dead cats in my drem, cats I have never seen before?" The four let out chuckle-like sounds and snorts, whiskers twitching in amusement.

"Of course, pardon us for our rudeness," the silver tabby tom said. "We are indeed the deceased leaders of the four Clans, but what you do not know about the life of the Clans is the belief in us, cats of StarClan. We watch over those we left behind and communicate with them in our own special way. We also come in dreams." Wanderer nodded, but could not quite grasp it, though it seemed simple enough. Dead cats, the afterlife.

"But why me?" he said finally.

The cats hesitated.

"You are the Wanderer," the tortoiseshell she-cat said. "We have been observing you. You live the soft life of a kittypet, certainly, but you wander over the warmer seasons from one house to the other, and sometimes, though rarely, also paying visits to other kittypets during the harshest days of leafbare. You were often there for kittings of she-cat kittypets, helping them with their kits when they were tired." There was a heavy pause. "Hard times are coming for the Clans. I might have insulted you, in case you took it as an insult, when you were but five moons old, but I could not let a kittypet steal the food we really need." She paused again, mouth slightly open. "You are showing great compassion for other cats and a certain amount of skill when it comes to caring for others. You may lack the knowledge of healing herbs, but you have the capacity to learn it if you wish. You have the qualities any Clan would want in their medicine cat. Do you understand me, Wanderer?" Pause.

"Not really," he drawled, trying to ease the blow of the negative response by making it longer. The tortoiseshell she-cat sighed.

"In short, we want you to learn about all the herbs with our aid and help out all the Clans when need be. Once you are ready, we will inform them of you as additional help to all of them. You are called Wanderer. So, wander. Wander the Clans as a neutral cat and aid them," said the cold, dark brown tabby tom, amber eyes locked onto Wanderer's green ones. "Will you do it?" He paused, then said: "You can remain a kittypet if you stay with your first home, the one closest to the forest. But you will also be welcome to reside in the forest with any of the Clans."

"We will make sure to properly teach you everything," the calico she-cat piped in, flicking the tip of her tail excitedly. "Including where everything is inside the forest." She paused. "Of course, we won't be teaching you healing. The medicine cats will do that." Her whiskers, for some reason, twitched with amusement.

The cats and the surroundings faded, Wanderer's eyes now staring at the dark inside of the room he slept in inside the human home.

A dream alike the one with odd cats and a thing such as StarClan had not come to him in a while, only the same one repeating in parts every day. He had dreamed it first on the last day of an especially cold autumn; the autumn that had ended just before the current raging winter. Or leafbare, as the feral cats called it.

Just the sight of the terrible weather outside made his fur bristle slightly; it was some sort of fear. He did not want to be out there. He knew what it was like and that he was most likely going to end up with duties on such days again, someday, but now, he did not want it. Not one bit of the harsh cold.

He proceeded to turn his back to the window, glancing at the sleeping humans in the process. All three slept together again that winter, cuddled under many covers, keeping their warmth together. As far as Wanderer understood, the young daughter was afraid of the howling wind and other noises coming from outside, thus the parents took her into their bed. Also, the terrible weather conditions locked everyone in, allowing the humans to stay at home instead of fulfilling their usual duties.

He wished for a blanket, something to curl up underneath to keep him safe and even more warm, but fell back asleep anyway.

The smell of all the seasons mixed together washed over him again. There was something different this time, though. There was only one cat.

Wanderer flinched back, relaxing as he saw the calico she-cat twitch her tail amusedly. She was indeed the friendliest out of them as he had guessed, the tortoiseshell she-cat being too protective of her Clan, the silvery tabby tom too proud and just and the brown tabby tom too cold. She was relaxed, calm. He remembered her well; Smallstar, age 832 moons, or nearly eight years old, at the time of her death. Before receiving her nine leader lives, she went by her warrior name Smallclaw, being an exquisite fighter of WindClan, later its deputy and, finally, leader.

"Long time no see." She had rather a soft voice and gaze, though her yellow-green eyes pierced the barrier around one's soul.

"Indeed," Wanderer replied. "I have not seen any of you in almost a moon." She flicked her ear, saying nothing. There was something in her eyes, though. "Yes, the dream repeated itself to me over and over during all this time. Is it the doing of you, StarClan cats?" Her whiskers twitched.

"Just mine," she confessed. "We could not sense any answer from you. You never gave it, no matter how many times you went through the dream."

"Because I do not have an answer yet," Wanderer offered.

"It has been a moon," Smallstar mewed quietly, sitting on the soft, warm soil, wrapping her tail over her white paws. He could hardly hold her yellow-green gaze when it had fear and sadness burning in it.

"I know," Wanderer muttered under his breath, but the calico leader heard him.

"Well, you will not be of much use during leafbare then, but we would still need you; whenever you decide to help the Clans, if you choose to do so at all, your help will be appreciated. A darkness is creeping into the cats, and there is a storm coming in the future, but not a snow one." Smallstar stood up again and flicked her tail. "Enjoy the warmth of fire."

Her image faded from his mind, her final words echoing in his mind as he once more awoke in the dark room. The humans were still, the wind seemed to weaken increasingly and the snowing had stopped at some point. There was no fire upstairs, but it was nevertheless warm. There, the humans had some odd metal item he only ever saw in their and their daughter's rooms during winter; he had never managed to catch its name, but it had a long black line, called a cable or the like, if he remembered well from the times they were dealing with the TV and other strange items, connecting it to one of the walls and that was when it worked. It kept the room warm, radiating heat just like fire, but sometimes Wanderer felt better sleeping on the floor, next to it, as it did not hurt, unlike fire.

* * *

Snow did not fall the following day. The sun found its way through the thick blanket of fluffy clouds, some of the pale blue sky peeking through, as well. The humans dared leave the house, but carried long wood-and-metal items they used to lift the snow and remove it from their path. They did not leave outside of the fences.

Much unlike Wanderer, who did not take a pawstep out of the doorway of the house, Fleck seemed to be hyper, running around uncontrollably and unpredictably across the yard, snow flying up in piles wherever the black and brown pup went. Wanderer could only snort in disapproval, hissing and pawing at the pup's large ears whenever the dog attempted to push or pull the tom into the snow. Fleck was resilient.

In the end, Wanderer found himself leaping through the fluffy snow, bits of it melting and clinging onto his long fur in cold clumps. The similar was happening to Fleck, but the pup seemed unmoved by it. The daughter, much larger than usual in her thick and warm and apparently snow-proof clothing seemed to be having fun, as well, tackling down both the animals. Fleck had a blast, the opposite of how Wanderer felt about the winter outing to the yard.

The older humans called to their daughter, who left the animals alone and rushed over to her parents, the three gathering snow and creating large balls of it, one just slightly smaller than the daughter.

Wanderer felt strong paws hit his back, letting out a hiss and dropping to the ground, rolling over. He succeeded only at gathering more snow onto his fur, leaping to his paws in frustration. A tom as large as himself, perhaps even larger and more muscular, stood before him, fur dark grey, almost black. It also had snow in it, but the grey tom seemed not to care.

"Finally out of the house!" the tom commented cheerfully, whiskers twitching in amusement as he watched Wanderer shake himself in a failed attempt at removing the snow frozen onto his fur. It would melt soon enough, the white tom hoped.

"Not exactly my wish," he replied, licking his chest.

"Why not?" The other tom seemed enthusiastic about being outside. Wanderer shared none of his feelings about winter and snow.

"Snow, cold," he began, interrupted by Fleck, who barrelled into the grey tom, who jumped up and barely survived the playful collision, fur bristled in fear and shock. Fleck ran around them in circles, barking here and there, his tail never stopping. The grey tom's fur slowly flattened again as he snorted.

"You have a pup. The worst kind," he commented, then sat down. Snow was piled around them, but mostly already scattered and flattened by Fleck and Wanderer's chasing and Fleck's general running about. "Anyway, I have come here for more than to shove you into snow, which will come later." He flicked his ears nervously, eyes glancing at the pup a few times. "You know Spots?" Of course Wanderer knew Spots, flicking his ears in confirmation to the grey tom.

"Hey, Ash," Wanderer interrupted him. The large tom tilted his head in question, the flick of his tail telling the white tom to continue. "Don't tell me you are having kits with her."

Wanderer could see Ash feeling hot under his green gaze, yellow eyes looking away worriedly. "I know, she is young, you told me. But only one ever died in all these years because she was young and weak. Spots is not weak and her humans take good care of her. They still do, even though they know she is with kits. She is even more cared for now, actually, she told me that once when I had to visit her. They won't let her out into the cold."

Wanderer sighed. "All right, all right. I am sure Spots will be all right," he calmed the grey tom, shaking his head. Spots was indeed an exquisitely healthy and strong she-cat, he could not argue that. And she was young, but nevertheless nearing her second year of life. She was born near the end of winter, after all. They would celebrate her birthday in a couple of months. The humans seemed to like celebrating their pets' birthdays, never missing a year.

"Yes. Yes, she will," Ash said. "I will try and go see her." With a flick of the tail, the tom disappeared over the stone wall that surrounded the house, forgetting that he was going to shove Wanderer into the snow a few more times.

Wanderer got up and, continuing to ignore Fleck's inviting barks, strolled back towards the doorway. With a few light hits of his paw, he managed to make Fleck give up and play with the humans, who threw balls of snow which he chased over and over, unable to catch them or bring them back. Stupid, stubborn. Crazy. Wanderer did not know how else to describe the pup.

As he waited for the snow to get out of his fur, the warmth radiating through the open door, he stared out towards the forest. His first home, and the only one he could call home out of the others he passed through sometimes, was a house staring out on the hard and rough grey road wide enough for only one transport item to pass abreast, a thing he once believed to be alive, a thing whose name he still did not know, but some cats perhaps did. Across the road was a large open meadow stretching down a slope towards a forest. The forest in his dream, he knew. In winter, though, those trees were bare of leaves.

For a moment, he seemed to have caught sight of several cats patrolling their border. If there were cats and he had not hallucinated, they were from LakeClan, he knew. The tortoiseshell she-cat was the former leader of LakeClan.

Wanderer shuddered as a light but cold wind blew over him, cooling his cold and damp fur. Licking his chest and shoulder a few times, he retreated into the house. It was not a good day to be outside.

* * *

 **AN**

Well, there is the chapter. Make sure to tell me what you think of the story now! Anything constructive is welcome :3

The next chapter will definitely be this Saturday, 28.10.2016., perhaps in the laterish afternoon my time (GMT+1).


	3. Chapter 02

**AN**

Yay, I did it in time!

Oh, and thanks for the reviews, **Echo in the Whispering Wind** and **Night of No Moon**! :3

* * *

Smallstar's eyes remained the softest. She was joined by Darkstar this time, the dark brown tabby who was the former leader of WhisperClan. His cold eyes had become no warmer with time.

"What are the dangers the Clans are to face in their near future?" The question had been growing inside Wanderer's mind for days before the StarClan cats finally reached out to him in his dream. They remained silent for quite a while, nervousness creeping underneath Wanderer's fur with each passing moment. The grass of the open WindClan territory swayed underpaw, leaves of the many trees nearby rustling in the wind.

"The most immediate danger is this leafbare," Darkstar finally uttered, no part of his body moving in reaction. The weight of his words unsettled Wanderer, large white paws shuffling on the ground. He flicked his ear, saying nothing. "That is the only thing you should worry about for now. This leafbare will last longer than normal."

"Wanderer, we must know: will you aid our Clans?" Smallstar almost begged.

"Why me?" he asked again. He could still not quite understand why he was the one they chose to help their Clans.

"You have the best qualities for a good medicine cat," Darkstar offered. Smallstar flicked her tail as if to agree.

"You have shown great care for your friends in the Twolegplace," Smallstar elaborated. Twolegplace; the humans' village, Wanderer knew. "You were willing enough to go outside in the harshest weather just to make sure a she-cat's kitting went well and checked up on her kits every once in a while." She sighed. "We need that quality, because you would be wandering across the territories from one Clan to another in any weather."

"I did do it," he admitted, "but I did it for friends and family, not the families and friends of some dead cats in my dreams." The two cats took a moment to think about it. "You won't persuade me."

The two deceased leaders kept their gazes on Wanderer.

"You refuse to change your mind?" Darkstar grumbled. Wanderer nodded.

"There is nothing in it for me, as I see it. It is not a life for me, a kittypet," he replied, puffing his chest out. He remembered the tortoiseshell's words. "When I was just a kit, I was told this by a Clan cat," he added.

The leaders shared a glance. "It was Dapplestar," Darkstar meowed.

"She told us," Smallstar confirmed. Wanderer flicked his ear, saying nothing. The tortoiseshell she-cat was the former leader of LakeClan. Smallstar shuffled her paws. "Then, she did not know of the prophecy. Can you not forgive her? She was being protective of her territory. She had the right to be." Wanderer took in a deep breath. He could understand it, though he could not quite understand how little prey they had out there. He had never been there. Never tasted the life in the forest.

"I suppose she did," he mewed finally, flicking the tip of his tail.

There was silence, and nothing but it and the smells. There was not even the usual breeze, only the smells of all the seasons. Those cats seemed to Wanderer like eternity - the stars in their pelts, their scents gathering all the seasons into one, their powerful presence.

"Please, aid the Clans," Smallstar had begging in her voice. Wanderer twitched his whiskers in thought.

"Maybe."

* * *

The images faded like they had so many times.

Wanderer's eyes opened slowly, blinking against the brightness of the room. The light was turned on inside and the sun had again broken through the now less heavy clouds that morning, reflecting off the pure white snow piled up everywhere. He yawned, flicking his ears at the sounds coming around him. The daughter had again slept with her parents, but now she was running around together with the dog pup, urgently telling her parents something. They were all getting ready, he noticed, changing into clothes different to those they wore around the house. Wanderer lazily got up to his paws and stretched his legs and back, eyes focussed on the door of the room, outside of which the three humans and the dog walked left and right.

After a while, all three of them stopped in front of the room, eyes on the sitting tom, and said what he had learnt to decipher as "Bye, Wanderer." None said the first word the same, but it had the same meaning, as far as he knew. Perhaps one of them said "take care".

Reluctantly, he hopped off the nightstand, stretching once more and padding outside the room and down to the kitchen, not finding the dog anywhere. He saw one window was open, like it always was for Wanderer. He knew they would be away a while, back to their jobs as humans; the weather was not too bad to go outside anymore.

He munched down some of the dry food that had been there since the night before. It had lost a bit of its nice smell, but was still good to eat. He would get some wet food when they returned.

Fleck barked somewhere. Wanderer flicked his ears. It was not as clear as it would be if they were in the same part of the house, but still it was quite near. He lifted his head, green eyes looking to his left, scanning the room. No dog. No dog incoming, either. Wanderer moved to the side, lapped up some water and trotted over to the stand by the window on the other end from the kitchen, tip of the tail twitching with amusement. Hopping up by the window, he saw his guess was correct. Fleck's small, yet big to the cat, black and brown body ran in a small circle near the window. He barked several times, skidding to a halt and with that covering himself in snow when he noticed the tom sitting on the window. His tail was swishing left and right as quickly as ever.

The tom shuffled his paws, whiskers twitching as he watched the pup attempting to reach the window, scattering more and more snow with each clumsy jump. He was not going to go outside that day. It was cold enough standing on the window, a cold breeze ruffling his long, fluffed up fur.

Something stirred at the fence in the distance, a dark blur passing over it and falling into the snow. Fleck noticed it, too, barking and running in that direction. The black figure jumped up, fur fluffed, and ran around the pup, soon barelling into Wanderer as it jumped up and through the window. Rolling on the floor, the two cats came to a stop, the black one jumping to his paws and closing his mouth, his fur slowly flattening, but his hostile green gaze not softening. "So, it is you," the tom hissed, tail lashing for a while longer. Wanderer got up, flattening his fur, which fluffed up in shock and fear caused by the black tom. He sat down, head tilted. The green glare was familiar. Too familiar, perhaps.

"You are... Blackfire?" It was hard to forget the green brightness mixed with fiery hostility that was the black tom's eyes.

"Yes," the tom replied, sitting down, as well. "Blackfire of LakeClan, sent to fetch you." He continued to hiss most of his words, clearly not there as an eager volunteer.

"Fetch me?" Wanderer asked.

"Fetch you," Blackfire growled, baring his bright white fangs. He calmed down a moment later. "StarClan spoke to both our medicine cat and leader a while ago, giving them some odd prophecy that apparently includes you, leaf-hunting kittypet." He spat the last words, flattening his ears for a quick moment, eyes seeming to flare then. Wanderer decided that the black tom was a grudge-holding cat. "Last night StarClan urged them to send for you."

"Oh, _that_ ," the white tom meowed quietly, flicking the tip of his tail nervously. So much for pleading him and giving him a choice. It did not seem to him that Blackfire would let him refuse to go. The black tom kept his cold glare on Wanderer.

"You know of it?" he hissed.

Wanderer flinched. It was sharper than before. "Yeah..." he mewed. Blackfire bared his fangs.

"And you couldn't come over yourself?" he snapped.

Wanderer flattened his ears and stood up. "I was still debating whether or not to come, seeing how friendly you were to me all those years ago," he hissed, teeth showing. He was larger than Blackfire, but that did not guarantee him power over the black warrior. "You told me never to come back, remember?"

Blackfire let out a deep growl. "StarClan spoke to you, clearly. That is _sacred_."

"StarClan is not sacred to me," Wanderer countered with a hiss. "I am not one of you feral cats."

The black tom lunged, sharp claws managing to catch Wanderer on the cheek before the white kittypet could react. Red stained white quickly, throbbing pain spreading over his face. He jumped away, crossing the room and climbing the stairs in long leaps. The warrior followed, growling as he reached the top of the stairs, tail lashing.

"What is wrong with you?" Wanderer growled, hackles raised and teeth bared. "I only told you the truth." Blackfire seemed to calm down, though there was an unstoppable fire in his eyes, clearly what gave him his name. The warrior sheathed his claws, but kept his fighting stance. Fear rippled over Wanderer's body.

"Nothing is wrong with me," Blackfire meowed, sitting down. His tail lashed back and forth, ears lay flattened, eyes held unwanted hostility, but his fur was flat.

"All right," Wanderer sighed.

"In any case, I cannot leave without you," the black tom grumbled. "I will get you to my Clan's camp whether or not you want to." Wanderer saw his claws unsheathe, licking his chest nervously in response. "Dawnroot will take care of those scratches." Blackfire stood back up, ready to leave, taking the white tom's lack of reply as him agreeing to go peacefully, which was exactly what Wanderer intended on doing.

Snow crunched underneath their paws, dampening the fur on their bellies as they pushed through. Blackfire followed the path he had taken on his way to Wanderer, the white tom following only as close as he had to.

The thick, but mostly leafless trees shielded them from most of the sharp wind blowing across the plains and weakly winding around both the wide and stick-thin trunks. Once, Wanderer heard some rustling in a tree and barely spotted a small squirrel scurrying about. If there were birds, none made a sound.

Blackfire picked up his pace in the forest, a much thinner layer of snow covering the frozen earth. Wanderer's paws were rather unused to uneven ground, moving more easily on the rough asphalt of human roads and the laminated or tiled floors inside houses. The only earth he walked on was that of the gardens around houses, but every garden had paths which he preferred to dirt.

All the time spent travelling seemed to pass in an instant, the duo reaching a lake between many trees, the noon sun reflecting off its frozen surface. A couple of cats lay on the coast in an area where snow had been cleared, their eyes and ears in the direction of the two toms. Blackfire flicked the tip of his tail, the two cats in the distance returning the gesture. They were up on their paws and trotting back into the trees, disappearing from sight. The black warrior continued forward without a word.

Wanderer flicked his ears around the closer they came to the LakeClan camp. He heard murmurs of unknown voices, unable to understand what they were saying. Before the duo appeared a large area surrounded by bramble all around. Wanderer hesitated for only a heartbeat.

Blackfire led along the bramble wall, which was occasionally interrupted by tree stumps, the cut trunks wrapped with the bramble as well, to an opening between two tall walls of the thorny bramble. There seemed to be nothing between the outer and inner walls that the cats had built.

"How are your paws?" a powerful voice called, a sleek silver tabby figure appearing before the two toms entering the camp. Wanderer flicked his ears and tail, eyes darting around, taking in the many cats scattered around, some watching from behind the openings in the bramble. There was a wide stump in the centre around which many cats were gathered.

"My paws?" Wanderer meowed back quietly. The question was clearly for him as Blackfire stalked away, moving behind the silver warrior and standing next to some other cats.

"Your paws," the powerful tom confirmed, whiskers twitching with amusement. His stern green eyes rested on Wanderer's own, not helping Wanderer's confusion. The other tom noticed this. "Do they wander? Are they lost?" He paused, then continued more quietly, almost in a hiss: "Or do they stand still and watch?" A faint flicker of fear showed in his eyes.

"I...," Wanderer began, but stopped. The silver tom observed him with hope, but there was caution, as well. Wanderer held his gaze. "I do not understand." The other tom unsheathed his claws and sheathed them back again.

"You do not understand?" he meowed.

"No," Wanderer replied. "Why the... riddle?"

"How do you want me to say it, then, so you would understand?" This caused snickers to pass through the camp. The white tom licked his chest, eyes scanning the entertained cats. All had amusement in their eyes, some twitching their whiskers and tails. He looked back at the silver tabby tom.

"I do not know how the prophecy goes and I do not know what you mean with the paws," he meowed, words now spilling our of him. "How am I supposed to understand? I was only visited and pestered by these dead cats in my dreams who kept telling me to help the Clans. No prophecy; now I can only guess my paws are the wandering ones you mention, as my name is Wanderer." He felt his heart beat harder and faster. "I do not know about being lost."

"They did say he was the loud silence," a new voice came, breaking the silence ensuing the speaking of his name. Pale cream fur glistened in the sun, amber eyes almost playful. The tom was smaller than the silver tabby, but had a more powerful presence. The silver warrior seemed childish next to the cream tom, who dipped his head to Wanderer. "My name is Dawnroot. I am LakeClan's medicine cat. Welcome, Wanderer." He shot a glance at the silver tom.

"I am Ripplestar," the other tom meowed with pride. The leader; Wanderer could have guessed. If he was awaited, the cat from their prophecy, of course the leader would speak to him first. "I am the leader of LakeClan. Welcome." He seemed a clumsy cat now, though pride was bursting in his eyes.

"You must pardon Ripplestar for his attitude," Dawnroot continued. Wanderer nodded, his action evidently pleasing the medicine cat, who then turned to look at Ripplestar.

The silver tom reacted as Dawnroot had expected him to. It was as if Dawnroot was the real leader. "We will retreat to my den now," he meowed loudly, turning around and flicking the tip of his tail. Dawnroot followed, Wanderer close behind the cream tom.

Ripplestar's den was just around the stump in the centre, all the cats backing away to let them through. It was, like everything, covered in bramble, the entrance large enough for one cat to squeeze through without ending up with scratches from the thorns. Almost all entrances seemed to be like that, two to their left an exception.

Once inside, Ripplestar settled in front of his moss bed, tail curled over his paws. "So, Wanderer," he meowed after a silent moment of eyeing the large white newcomer. "The prophecy speaks of you, but are you willing to do it?"

Wanderer hesitated for a moment, shuffling his paws. "I do not know what I am even to do."

"You said you do not know how the prophecy goes," Dawnroot cut in. Wanderer looked at the cream tom standing next to Ripplestar and nodded. " _The paws of storm stand still and watch, fearing the lost and wandering ones that spell their end._ " Dawnroot's voice had changed as he spoke those words, Wanderer's fur bristling the slightest at its sound. There was silence which the white tom thought to be there for effect. Finally, Dawnroot spoke again. "We believe the paws of storm are some cats, or maybe one cat that will soon attack the Clans. Storm may seem irrelevant to us, though StarClan never uses words merely for effect, so perhaps it is the name of the cat or group of cats." Wanderer flicked his ear. "You do not know anyone with a name like that?"

Wanderer thought about it. "Only Storm, a fat grey tom who hasn't set paw out of his house almost his whole life. I doubt he is a threat. He is also a bit... stupid." His whiskers twitched with amusement. "Actually, there is Thunder apart from him." He saw hope flare for half a heartbeat in their eyes, but it died as quickly as it appeared.

"No, it has to be the word they said," Dawnroot meowed. "That is-"

"Intruders!" a shout from outside interrupted. Ripplestar was out in a heartbeat, hiding the speaker from Wanderer's view. Dawnroot walked out slowly, telling Wanderer to follow with a flick of his tail. The white tom took his time before leaving Ripplestar's den, as well.

All the cats were gathered around the stump in the centre, a small brown tom speckled with grey and black standing there, looking up at Ripplestar in front of him. "Intruders?" the silver leader asked.

"Y-yes," the small tom replied. He seemed to be shaking. "Spottedbreeze, Duskfur, Beetlefang and Blackfire stayed to chase them off, but there are quite many there."

"Blackfire?" Ripplestar meowed. "He was not on the patrol."

"I ran into him on the way back and he went to where the others are," the brown tom explained. Ripplestar nodded.

"Tell us more about the intruders," Ripplestar urged the tom on.

"They are big," he meowed insecurely and quietly, glancing at Wanderer curiously. "Like him," he whispered, then looked back at Ripplestar. "Most of them were white and grey. They look really strong and there is more than half a Clan there, not many of them unable to fight, maybe only the kits. I don't know if the patrol will make it..."

"No doubting in our warriors, Sparrowpaw," Ripplestar chided. The small brown tom lowered his head. Ripplestar then called out many names. "Sparrowpaw, lead us there. Be swift!"

They took off, leaving Wanderer with Dawnroot, the two queens, four kits and two old warriors behind.

* * *

 **AN**

So, what do you think? xD

Perhaps some thoughts on Ripplestar and Dawnroot? Wanderer? The prophecy? Anything in general about the chapter? Characters? Personalities? I believe my character handling is not the best but I am now finally attempting to stick to their personalities. Feel free to leave a review about anything about this chapter or the future ones. :3

Oh, by the way, I did not check the previous chapter, but if there is something looking like *xyz* it is supposed to be in italics. xD

Next chappy's due Sat, 5.11.2016. - it is already partially written and I hope to finish it and start chapter four before Wednesday comes. xD


	4. Chapter 03

Wanderer paced around in silence, not knowing what to do. The two queens seemed rattled and kept the four kits inside the nursery despite their energetic need to talk to the cat from the prophecy or annoy the warriors. Dawnroot sat by the tree stump, observing the large white tom.

"I assume you do not know how to fight?" the cream medicine cat meowed after a while. Wanderer turned his head towards him.

"No," he confirmed. Dawnroot nodded.

"Our best fighters will teach you when they can." He paused. Wanderer could not see much, if any, distress on the cat. "These intruders must be the prophesied storm."

Silence befell the camp again...

...only to be broken by four hurrying kits. "Is your name Wanderer?" the apparently boldest said, standing in front of Wanderer barely a tail-length away. It was a big silver tabby tom with bright green eyes, resembling Ripplestar greatly, but also the silver tabby queen, whose green eyes observed Wanderer with caution, sometimes flicking down to look at the kit.

"It is," Wanderer meowed, two smaller kits staring from behind with big eyes. The fourth kit stood beside them, but looked at Wanderer as if he were nothing unusual. "What are your names?"

"Bearkit," the silver kit meowed proudly, "because I will be big and strong." The other kits seemed reluctant. Well, the fourth, a pale grey she-cat, merely seemed silent.

"I'm Acornkit," a small brown tom mewed. The two she-cats followed his example, the pale grey one identifying herself as Mistkit and the spotted brown one as Mottledkit. Apparently, all kits had the suffix kit, then likely changing it when becoming warriors.

"Nice to meet you," Wanderer meowed.

"Willowflower says you're a kittypet," Bearkit announced, getting back into the spotlight.

"I am," Wanderer agreed.

"And Stormclaw says kittypets are useless and that we should not rely on one even if StarClan tells us to," Mistkit added, amber eyes piercing into Wanderer's green ones. She seemed almost older than them with her calm demeanor.

"Perhaps because we live easy lives, are always warm, are given food as much as we want and do not fight," Wanderer told them. Mistkit and Bearkit seemed uninterested whereas Acornkit and Mottledkit showed curiosity, but remained silent nevertheless.

The four kits bounded back into the warm nursery at their mothers' calls, the two queens' eyes hard and cold as they watched Wanderer. Such coldness was not visible in the eyes of the two guarding warriors.

"Worry not, you are under my protection and Ripplestar's." There was something unnerving in Dawnroot's words and eyes as he looked at the white tom. "They are mothers, wary of strangers, especially kittypets. We have a bad history with most kittypets from your Twolegplace. More than with wandering loners." Wanderer knew no one who would go and cause trouble to the Clan cats. No one who ever went across the road to the forest; not even the bravest. Only some were there and only once: as kits hunting leaves.

* * *

Time stretched on; the sun had long disappeared beneath the treetops, leaving them with a quickly darkening sky riddled with still faint stars. Wanderer, knowing not what else to do, mimicked the two warriors who sat in silence, occasionally sharing a few words. The queens lay in silence, as well, the kits making most of the noise within the near-empty camp. Dawnroot had simply disappeared within his bramble den beside the bramble nursery. Everything was out of bramble.

Wanderer began shifting uncomfortably the closer midnight was. He fluffed up his fur for warmth, a slow yet sharp wind cutting into him. The old warriors didn't seem to show any signs of being cold, standing still at the entrance to the camp. Sometimes the left one would even turn to look, the black warrior observing Wanderer with his only one green eye, instead of the other an empty hole with a scarred lid over it. The silver tabby tom kept his eyes only in front of himself, even when speaking with his Clanmate.

The sound of pawsteps circled the camp, the three cats in the clearing jumping up to their paws. Wanderer pulled his ears back, eyes wide with fear, fur standing on end. The two warriors relaxed as soon as they tensed, Wanderer trusting them and following suit, all of them taking a few steps backwards as cats poured into the camp clearing, Ripplestar at the head.

Wanderer did not have to be told that cats had been lost.

Dawnroot creeped out of his den, eyes flitting over the entering cats, calling forth a choice few with flicks of ears and tail, sometimes even calling their names. Meanwhile, Ripplestar settled atop the central stump, a faintly striped silver tabby she-cat by his side, their two pairs of green eyes observing the cats grouping up in front of them. "Loyal elders, strong warriors and brave apprentices have given their lives to protect their Clan today. Both ours and WhisperClan's," meowed Ripplestar. He seemed not to notice the gash on his flank and cuts on his cheek along with bites on his legs and tail. He gave a nod to the she-cat next to him.

"Their bodies will be brought in one by one." She had sadness filling her eyes. "For those of you who stayed in the camp, perhaps you should know before you see your fallen Clanmates; we lost Silverstep, Spottedbreeze, Duskfur and Frostfur."

Wanderer observed the cats. They all held grief in their downward gazes, only some looking up at Ripplestar from time to time. Most grief was seen in the old silver tabby warrior, the one-eyed black guard attempting to comfort him; all the other cats were shaken, but almost as if already at peace with it since the news were not all that new to them.

In silence, some cats trod out and began carrying in the limp bodies of their fallen Clanmates. Most cats sat assembled around the stump on which the bodies were lifted one by one, ceremonious words spoken over each one by Ripplestar. The four bodies were carried out then, the warriors carrying the last one followed by the two old guards, who did not return inside. The others cats disappeared within their dens, leaving only Ripplestar and Wanderer in the centre, some curious eyes looking at the white tom from their warm, shielded beds.

"You will stay in Dawnroot's den," Ripplestar meowed. "It should clear up soon enough." His eyes flitted over the medicine cat's den entrance, Sparrowpaw limping out of it and towards his den. Wanderer noticed he was the only one who entered that den.

Dawnroot appeared at the entrance to his den, closely watching Wanderer. He disappeared back inside, flicking his tail to call the white tom inside. With a nod of his head, Ripplestar urged Wanderer into the den, he himself retreating to his own.

A couple of cats lay asleep behind the bramble wall of the den; Wanderer recognised Blackfire in the stirring black warrior, beside whom slept a pale grey tom. It was large inside, two more entrances to Wanderer's left and right, through the left one wafting strong smells of herbs.

Dawnroot stood at the right one. "Come here," he called. Wanderer obeyed. He noticed a bed of fresh moss beside an older one. "You will sleep here. Are you tired?" Wanderer could not say that he was, shaking his head away. All he did was sit around in the cold, only the cold making him crave sleep and warmth. Other than that, he had too much unused energy.

Dawnroot settled in the older moss bed. "Do you wish to know more about Clan life?" Wanderer tilted his head. "Answers to questions, a bedtime story?"

Wanderer hesitated, shuffling his paws. "Perhaps… just about the Clans, the structure?" Dawnroot flicked his ear. "The StarClan cats did not tell me those things."

"Very well…"

* * *

Rocks of ice rained over the camp, breaking through the layered bramble roofs and walls, drawing blood from cats and leaving wet bruises in their stead. The noise muffled all the desperate meows of cats trying to escape the hail, find better shelter.

"This is merely a metaphor," meowed a calm voice, the words echoing as bright yellow eyes stared at him and stood out from everything else in the dark den with holes in the roof letting through the dead grey-blue of the weather raging in the forest. Here and there, a rock would hit Wanderer, making him wince in pain, body shivering with the cold.

"Dapplestar?" the white tom meowed, jumping up to his feet from the soaked moss bed in Dawnroot's den, stepping onto several ice rocks as he tried to stand normally. He took a moment to notice the cream tom gone. Well, it was clearly a dream. Nevertheless, the pain and cold from stepping on ice and being pounded with it from above were real.

The she-cat's eyes appeared to shine brighter for a moment, but then she turned around, the shine disappearing in the darkened den, her dark tortoiseshell fur blending into the background until it completely left the den.

Wanderer stumbled for a moment, fluffing up his wet fur as best he could and hurrying outside. He could hear meows for help everywhere, but there was no cat in sight. Well, no meowing cat.

Dapplestar sat atop the central stump, untouched by the weather. She shone with the stars of StarClan in her fur, eyes bright as ever locked onto Wanderer. Beside her sat a small brown tom with spots of black and grey whom Wanderer recognised as Sparrowpaw. Unlike Dapplestar, he was shaking with cold, ice continually hitting him wherever it could; out in the open, it was not so hard. Wanderer tensed, staring at the she-cat, whose eyes told him to stay put.

Then, silently, more cats appeared at the foot of the stump. Amongst them were Blackfire and Stripefur, the old silver tabby guard, one of the now two elders of the Clan, as Dawnroot had told him. Silverstep, one of the killed in battle, was his love and mate. Besides them, there was one more cat - a white she-cat with big blue eyes and a timid look in them; her, Wanderer did not know. All those cats, much like Sparrowpaw, were not untouched by the weather.

Dapplestar shuffled her paws, the action making Wanderer look back at her. "LakeClan lost lives yesterday. However, it did not lose only that. It also lost its spirit, the hearts of some of its warriors." He could hear her clearly despite the noise.

Wanderer continued looking at her, bewildered, then scanned the four cats around her. Their eyes were dim, almost dead. "You do not know the Clan yet, but you will meet them. These four need more encouragement than others."

Wanderer could not help but stare at the lifelessness in Blackfire's eyes. If he understood well his lesson from not so long ago, his name indicated fierceness, energy, an unrelenting fighter's spirit. Passion. He felt even colder looking at the black warrior he saw as proud.

Long white claws reached out for him out of nowhere, hungry green eyes showing behind them for just a heartbeat.

* * *

 **AN**

Hello! So, clearly, the third chapter is here. It is a tidbit shorter than usual (1.3k words less, to be honest), but that is because had I not cut it off, it would turn out far too long; promise! xD

In any case, I hope you enjoy it. I feel the plot may be a bit slow now and all, but I am hoping it won't go as slowly in the future - I have a chunk of chapter four that was meant to be part of chapter three, so it is on its way! I just have to figure it out and not drag more or less unimportant things too much and get the plot going. :3

Anyway, I hope you will take some more of your time to leave a review (and maybe even follow *wink*). Tell me what you liked, what you did not like, if there are any spelling/grammar/text flow mistakes, or perhaps some factual errors. Of course, it is _optional,_ but I hope you do leave a review. It makes me feel someone actually enjoys reading this. xD

Till next time (12.11.2016. if all goes well),

Sour Skitts


	5. Chapter 04

**AN**

 **I have decided to switch to shorter chapters. I also did not write much because I was more or less stressed out about uni stuff - exams start this Monday! xD**

* * *

"Are you all right?" Dawnroot's voice had an instantly soothing effect on Wanderer, who jumped up, eyes wide. His moss bed was dry, the roof was above them, letting in faint rays of cold sunlight through the fresh layer of snow. Wanderer wondered how it did not fall in through the bramble, but soon let it go.

"Just a dream. With a bad ending," Wanderer breathed out, till then unaware he was holding his breath. Dawnroot looked at him with curiosity in his green eyes.

"StarClan maybe?" he meowed. Wanderer sat down and shook himself in an attempt to shake the dread from the claws ending his dream.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"You are the prophesied cat," Dawnroot elaborated. "I suppose StarClan would speak with you." Silence fell over them for a moment. "What was the dream about?" The cream tom settled into his moss bed, eyes locked onto Wanderer. In the corner of his eye, the white tom saw Blackfire's bright yellow eyes, and now noticed the lack of brightness he saw in them the two times they were face to face.

"Dapplestar said it was a metaphor," Wanderer began after a moment, ignoring everything but Dawnroot's eyes. The medicine cat flicked his ear. "There was a lot of hail. Like a hailstorm." A chill passed through him at the memory. "The camp was ruined… and no cat was there but Dapplestar and me." He decided the lifelessness of the four cats he saw was not something he should let others know. "And then, I just saw claws aiming for me and I woke up."

Dawnroot nodded. "Did she say anything?" Wanderer remained silent for a moment.

"No, just the metaphor thing," he meowed finally. "I think she was saying something when she went outside, but I could not hear a thing." He wondered about his words. Perhaps the medicine cat would take it as a sign for something not intended or true. He shrugged it off in his mind.

"Dawnroot, hurry, come!" a rattled voice called from the camp clearing, making the cream tom up and out in a few heartbeats. Wanderer took his time, one shaky pawstep by pawstep, watching the clearing from the entrance. Just in front of the den were Blackfire and the pale tom, sitting side by side. Blackfire's shoulders were tense and fur forcibly flattened as he observed the scene before him.

In the snow-covered clearing lay a small, bleeding figure of brown, black and grey, sides rising and falling in a panicked rhythm. Wanderer felt his heart rate pick up as he watched.

"It will all be fine," Dawnroot meowed to the small apprentice, whose amber eyes seemed greatly disturbed. There was little trust in them, which visibly unnerved the cream tom, who hurried off back to his den, pushing Wanderer outside, and into the herb area, running back with a mouthful of leaves and petals and with paws wrapped with… cobweb. The white tom observed in silence, not hearing a sound as his eyes followed every move Dawnroot made, chewing the small leaves and bright yellow petals, applying them to the wounds with the help of cobweb.

After what seemed an eternity, but was rather a short moment in comparison with Wanderer's subjective impression, Dawnroot carried Sparrowpaw inside the den with the help of the pale tom, who appeared to have a limp. Blackfire followed, still tense as he watched his apprentice. Since Sparrowpaw was the sole apprentice at that moment, Dawnroot talked about him more than the warriors, which were greater in number, including who his mentor was.

"He will be all right," Dawnroot continued to meow, not relieving the black warrior. Perhaps Sparrowpaw was right next to Dapplestar in the dream because he was soon to pass. Wanderer pushed those thoughts away, as plausible as they seemed.

In the end, the cuts seemed bad when they were bleeding, but Dawnroot cleaned them up with Blackfire's help, the small brown apprentice

"What happened to him?" Dawnroot asked after a moment, eyes focussed on the black tom on the other side of Sparrowpaw. The warrior refused to speak for a while. "Blackfire." Dawnroot's voice had a strong demand in it, an order.

"He was on the dawn patrol, but wandered off, we do not know why," he growled at the medicine cat. Dawnroot seemed unfazed.

"Then we shall find out when he rests and wakes up; and heals a bit," the cream tom meowed. Blackfire flicked his ear and stalked out of the den.

Dawnroot lifted his soft gaze up to Wanderer. "In distress?"

"A little," the white tom confessed as if it were not obvious.

"Being a kittypet, I suppose you were not exposed to such sights," the medicine tom sighed. "Like you told the kits, you do not fight." Wanderer shook his head.

"Even our dogs… we do not have strays who would want to kill cats," he added. "Even those who do not live with cats are friendly."

"That is curious," Dawnroot mused, casting one last glance at Sparrowpaw before retreating to his bed. "Do you know what dock is?"

Wanderer was acquainted with the large-leafed herb. "Yes," he meowed.

"Try not to confuse it with sorrel and put it in Sparrowpaw's nest, please," the medicine cat said, not turning around for a heartbeat as he settled into his bed, eyes closed.

Wanderer stepped around the passed out apprentice whose paws kept twitching, and entered the herb den, a strong combination of various smells overwhelming his senses. He closed his eyes for a moment, slowly opening them as he stepped further inside to scan the stored herbs. Sorrel and dock were separate from one another, the tangy smell of dock making his nose wrinkle as he stood above it.

Careful, he grabbed a mouthful from the heap and carried it to the small brown tom sleeping steadily on the hard ground, not far off from the moss bed meant for Dawnroot's patients - Wanderer assumed he was supposed to carry Sparrowpaw into the moss bed, too, after he placed the large leaves all over it. There was no surprise in him at how light the apprentice was, limp and asleep as Wanderer dragged him as gently as he could onto the dock-covered moss bed. The apprentice did not wake.

Wanderer settled next to Dawnroot, who then lifted his head. "Are you really just unused to seeing such wounds?" he queried, lowering his head back onto his paws, green eyes looking at green eyes.

"Yes," Wanderer mewed.

"All right." Silence. Dawnroot closed his eyes. "Also, Ripplestar asked me to send you to him when you woke up."

Wanderer got onto his paws, slowly padding out of the medicine den. The silver tabby tom waited for him outside his den, getting up to his paws and walking towards the entrance once he saw Wanderer. The white tom followed, padding outside after Ripplestar, trying not to mind the cold ground underneath his paws.

"I will introduce you to fighting today," Ripplestar meowed once they reached the lake which earned the Clan their name.

"Fighting," Wanderer muttered. He felt they expected far too much from him; StarClan mentioned no fighting, or at least he did not recall such a thing.

"Yes, fighting," the silver tabby meowed. "You ought to learn the basics, at least, even if StarClan said you were not going to fight or bring us peace with violence." He sighed. "However, you have to be able to defend yourself. Blackfire will take over your training tomorrow." Wanderer shifted uncomfortably, knowing the black warrior resented him, or at least seemed to.

"All right," he nodded after noticing Ripplestar was waiting for something.

Without another word, the silver tom leapt over Wanderer, catching his tail between his teeth and yanking it. Pain shot along Wanderer's spine, the white tom nearly toppling over as he tried to spin around to face his opponent. Ripplestar then decided on swiping his paws towards Wanderer, each hit landing on the sides of his head but doing little harm other than just stunning the larger white cat; Ripplestar kept his claws sheathed.

Wanderer managed to step back and evade Ripplestar's latest attack, only slightly surprising the tom. Wasting to time, he leapt at the smaller cat, but missed his landing as Ripplestar ducked and rolled over, a heartbeat later already facing Wanderer again.

Ripplestar's attacks continued and moved from Wanderer's head to his sides and back whenever the white tom would try to dodge or evade. His size was certainly his weakness against the swift silver tom.

Wanderer awaited the next strike aimed for his head with his eyes closed and body tense. It did not land. "Most definitely new to fighting." Wanderer relaxed slightly, opening his eyes to see Ripplestar's eyes glimmering and whiskers twitching with amusement. "All right, let me teach you now."

* * *

His fur was raised, his legs trembled, his eyes stared in horror. Cat against cat with little mercy in them, claws cutting deep and teeth tearing skin apart. He was glad he at least did not have to see it. The sounds, however, could not be unheard.

Sparrowpaw lay nearly motionless in his moss nest close by, wrapped up with cobweb and twitching here and there in his sleep. The four kits were huddled in Wanderer's nest next to Dawnroot's, Bearkit looking like he wanted to fight whereas the other three attempted to sleep and keep the noise away.

"Why can I not fight?" Bearkit meowed, ever so resilient.

"You are just a kit," Wanderer retorted with a hiss, ears pulled backwards in fear. "And your mothers told you so." He stood in the entryway to his and Dawnroot's den. "Should I bring Sparrowpaw in?"

Just as he questioned it, a large white tom looking much like himself came in with a boom, fangs bared and claws unsheathed, fur bristled and ears flat against his head. Wanderer jumped up in surprise, unsheathing his own claws. Bearkit stumbled over the white tom's tail as he tried to reach the enemy; the other three rushed to Wanderer's help, dragging the feisty kit back into the nest.

Sensing Wanderer's fear, the enemy did not hesitate to reach for Sparrowpaw after yowling a call. Two more cats bounded in, getting rid of their opponents with several more powerful blows, it seemed. The she-cat of the two glared at Wanderer, her stare not letting him move; he barely stood a chance against one, let alone three.

The two toms were quick to lift the body and carry it out, followed soon by the she-cat.

* * *

 **AN**

Well, anyway, there it is! The next chapter will come on the Saturday in two weeks. Sorry! x3 (3.12.)

It would be amazing if you reviewed; thanks!

Again, sorry for being a week late :3


End file.
